


Moonshine

by Pumpkan



Category: Yogscast "High Rollers" D&D Campaign
Genre: F/M, Misuse of alcohol, PTSD, its quillucius if you squint bc i know people like that, spoilers for episode 51, this fic is about lucius the poor lad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 18:22:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21378502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pumpkan/pseuds/Pumpkan
Summary: Lucius joins the wolf pack's celebrations on the Storm Chaser to distract himself from some trauma.---Set some time during episode 51.Don't read if you haven't seen at least up to episode 50, because it'll make no sense whatsoever.Also it's Quillucius if you squint really hard. I know a lot of people like that
Relationships: lucius/faethe
Kudos: 25





	Moonshine

“Take a sip of this, captain!” 

And he doesn’t mind if he does, thank you. 

By Siaska is Howard’s moonshine strong! And it tastes of the bathtub it was brewed in. Though if the crew agree with him, their laughter doesn’t show it. They slap their knees and howl at his expense. It echoes around the chamber they’d found below deck of the Stormchaser. 

Lucius doesn’t have the grace to feel embarrassed by their reaction. Not any more. He’s quite beyond that, after recent events. Still, he takes a second gulp.

“Much nicer the second time around.” He says. 

One of the wolf pack makes a crude joke. At that one he feels the blush rise in his cheeks. Faethe, that nice wolf girl that carries a torch for him, figuratively speaking, punches the one who made the remark. He gives her a grateful smile. Her answering grin is toothy to say the least. 

“Now I believe we were going to have a party?” He asks, and they cheer. He mutters a few words and gestures with his jewelled hand. Dancing lights blink into being and bob around the room, casting long colourful shadows on the walls. 

One of the pack produces a pan flute from somewhere, and a small drum. They look suspiciously like Sentry and Howard’s instruments, but Lucius turns a blind eye. Had he been on duty, and as their captain, he would have chewed them out for theft. But the fact of the matter is he is decidedly off duty. And he’s sick of solving problems. 

They aren’t as skilled as Sentry and Howard, but they make up for it with enthusiasm. They start up a song that the pack all know. Lucius sits and listens as they sing. The sound is rough, but has a heady beat. 

He has another sip of moonshine. The taste can’t be helped, but the warmth in his gut is quite lovely. 

A song or two later, a man picks him up to dance. It starts innocently enough, lead by the hand into an awkward jig. After that the pack descends on him like wolves. One moment he’s stepping in time, the next he’s being passed around the room. 

Beastwalkers grab him bodily, toss him, turn him. They sweep him up in their joy. Lucius tosses his head in abandon. He sips between moments, warmth climbing up his chest. Lovely. 

He’s whirled to crewmate Shaun next. The captain is caught by the wrists, swung around the room like rock in a sling. Shaun’s canines flash wet in the dancing lights. 

_ The corridor flashes red and purple in bursts. Aila screams something desperate and unintelligible. The spittle from her words hangs in the air longer than it should. It refracts the blaring lights. It’s strangely beautiful. He’s the last one out of the room. _

Shaun lets go and he hurtles through space. His hair, shorter than before but finally golden again, streams behind him. He stumbles. A pair of rough hands catch him. Passes him something. 

Oh yes, more of Howard’s mooney-shiney. Lovely! 

One of the other members of the wolf pack drags him back to the dancing. She has a long shaggy mane and short limbs. Her head barely comes to his chin, but she is clearly taking the lead. Her footfalls are light and quick, barely touching the floor, til she jumps and lands in a stomp. Lucius can’t help but laugh, and tries to mirror her movement the best he can. Another woman joins them. The three of them hold each other by the shoulders. The two women elbow and push him til his feet move of their own accord. They laugh at his failure. It’s not entirely unkind. 

Suddenly the short one pushes him. He stumbles back. He’s caught in a familiar pair of clawed hands. 

“We have nothing like that in Gusthaven!” He smiles, taking the moonshine Faethe offered. 

“How do you do it up there?” She asks.

Lucius smiles and stands to his full height. He clicks and the dancing lights go mauve and gold. He is the painted prince, and he’s offering her his hand. 

A small blush rises to the beastwalker’s cheeks, which Lucius finds quite charming. Her hand is large in his, but that’s no matter. He takes her in his arms and shows her an elvish waltz. She finds her rhythm quickly. She’s a good dancer. What starts off slow and traditional grows fast paced. Her wolfish furver takes over. He lets it. 

Faethe holds him by the waist. They twirl together, feet moving in time. He dips her, she laughs. At the height of their next spin she lifts him, light on her feet, and then tosses him into the air. He rises. For a moment he is flying. At the peak, his world shifts. Gravity leaves him. 

_ He extends his hand and a lightning lure streaks into the darkness. It’s a desperate claw. Erratic. The lightning courses up his elbow and it burns. Further. It must go further. It reaches for feathers. For talons. For Quill’s bare torso. Almost…. _

Lucius is caught in strong arms. Faethe barks a laugh. It’s infectious. 

“You’re so pretty Lucius.”

“Thank you, I have a strict beauty regime.”

He catches his breath and takes another swallow. Golly, when did this moonshine become so delightful? 

She holds him close. They’re chest to chest, like lovers. He rests his head on her shoulder. It’s nice just to have someone close. 

Time starts to slip from him somehow. He takes another swallow of moonshine and lets it slide on by. 

Later, under the streamers, Faethe has him alone. Another swallow of moonshine. Lovely. 

She’s saying something, but the thought barely registers. He just sees her hopeful face and smiles. 

“Can you be mine?” She asks. Her timbre is low, protective. A growl beneath the surface. 

Her claws dig in. It hurts. It’s good. 

_ It hurts. Siaska, it all hurts. He makes a mad dash. Quill is just there. He’s just above him. He can get by, they can all get home if he’s fast. He can be fast. But he leaves himself open. The drone catches him, and he’s falling down. Down down down. _

They fall down together on something soft. She’s very fuzzy. Everything is getting very fuzzy now. Fingertips, vision, tongue. Had Faethe always been this delightful, familiar shade of brown? He buries his face into her shoulder, closes his eyes. Breathes deep. 

_ His eyes flare open. He gasps a haggard breath. Birdie is above him, floating, yelling for him to run. They can still make it if they run. And then Quill is gone, hauled up and away, out of reach. And for Lucius, all that’s left is — _

— a tunnel, that’s what it’s like. Like looking at everything through a tunnel, so that he can only focus on one thing at once. The way her eyes shine with mirth, without a worry or care. The way the room dims suddenly. The touch of her hands on the back of his head, pulling him close. Her lips meeting his. The prods from the rest of the crew. They want something from him, what is it? He remembers the dark room again. His tongue is very thick and heavy. His hands numb and unwieldy in their movements. His fabrial flashes dimly a moment, and the lights once again flare out and wait at the corners of the room.

_ His friends wait for him at the top. They’re all panicking. Aila and Sentry have their arms outstretched. He thinks that if Sentry had tears she’d be crying. He thinks to them that they should go, they need to get out without him. _

Faethe pulls him to her again with her strong arms. 

_ He runs, they run. Nova screams. His heart breaks. Aila heaves him, bodily throws him. He turns to look back, to make sure they’re all close behind. _

_ Water. _

Moonshine. 

More moonshine. 

And then more moonshine til the darkness isn’t the terrifying, cold, yawning void of space, but that comfortable place where his thoughts stop. 

Lovely.


End file.
